


Seven

by Jay_Wells



Series: The Odd Life of Alexander Hamilton [17]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe -- Modern Setting, Car Accidents, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gun Violence, Hospitals, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Obama Presidency (not relevant that's just the time frame), Parent-Child Relationship, Politics, Possible Character Death, Psychiatric Hospitals, Twitter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7189799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Wells/pseuds/Jay_Wells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AJ was used to family crises. They were a fact of life in his home: Dad almost losing his job, Angie breaking her arm, somebody needed money or somebody was sick. And with the constant presence of small children, there was a steady stream of minor injuries mixed with typical teenage drama. This was just another day for the Hamiltons, but nobody had ever been in any real danger of death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. AJ, 11:45

**Author's Note:**

> Annie was what Alexander and Eliza called Angelica in their letters, so that's the nickname I used here.
> 
> Note on titles: Philip, Angie, AJ and James all call their parents 'Mom' and 'Dad' unless speaking Creole to fit in with their peers. The younger kids always call them 'Mama' and 'Papa.'

AJ was used to family crises. They were a fact of life in his home: Dad almost losing his job, Angie breaking her arm, somebody needed money or somebody was sick. And with the constant presence of small children, there was a steady stream of minor injuries mixed with typical teenage drama. This was just another day for the Hamiltons, but nobody had ever been in any real danger of death.

It was the middle of history with Mr Adams, a teacher Philip and Angie had warned him about, when his phone went off. Mr Adams stopped class when he heard the ringing, his face nearly purple. He stormed across the room and leant over the desk. “Mr Hamilton, there is a _zero tolerance_ at this school against cell phones. Do you think that the rules don’t apply to you?”

Sighing, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to turn it in to his teacher. The caller I.D. said his mother was calling. She usually never called him during school hours. Curious, he answered.

His mother’s voice on the other side of the phone was nothing short of anguished. “AJ, your brother’s been shot. I need you to meet your sister in the office now. Your father is on his way to pick you up now. He’ll explain everything -- ”

The call was cut off when Mr Adams forcefully yanked the phone out of his hands and closed the phone. “Mr Hamilton -- ”

“Mr Adams, please, I really need that back.” AJ scrambled to get his books together. “That was my mom. My brother is in the hospital -- he’s been shot. I really need to leave.”

Mr Adams’s face paled. He dropped the phone into AJ’s open hand, and quietly said, “I’m sorry, Alexander. Tell your parents that my and Abigail’s prayers are with them.”

“Thank you.” He hurried out of the classroom and up the stairs to where the main office was and found Angie waiting for him. Her face was drawn, and she didn’t meet his eyes. He sat down next to her. “That bad, huh? Who called you?”

“Dad. He was in a frenzy, but you know how he is. Everything is a disaster with him, so you can’t tell for sure. I guess Mom called you, what did she say?”

“A brother has been shot but didn’t say which one. She was upset. You know how she gets.” He took his older sister’s hand and squeezed it. “Did Dad say whom?”

Angie blinked and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. “Philip.”

It was so soft that he nearly didn’t catch it, but it made sense. Philip was friendly and good natured, but also highly emotional with a taste for heroics. If anyone got shot, that would be his headstrong brother.

“Theo texted me, too. Her dad knows the kid who shot Philip. Apparently, he interned for Burr last year and got fired after making a pass at Theo. She said Eacker -- that’s the guy -- is a graduate who really doesn’t like Dad, and he has a tendency to overreact.” Angie was staring blankly at her phone. “That’s all she knows, though. I could probably text Rick, though … ”

“Why?” AJ examined his own phone, which had no new texts other than one from James asking what was going on. He left it alone. He didn’t really have an answer.

She shrugged. “I want to know how this happened.”

“What’s the point? It doesn’t matter how it happened, just how it can be fixed. _If_ it can be fixed.” He exhaled shakily. It had been five minutes since Mom had called, and Dad was still not here.

“It _will_ be fixed.” Angie insisted. “He’ll be okay. I’m mean, it’s _Philip,_ come on. He’s always okay. They’ll fix him right up and he’ll go back to being obnoxious.”

“But why does what happened matter to you? They got Eacker in custody, right?”

“I need to know why my brother has been _shot_.” Angie turned back to her phone.

The secretary was staring them in bemused sympathy, not understanding a word they had said, but knowing why they were in the office. AJ ignored her and stared out the window at the parking lot, waiting for Dad to drive up. The roads were iced over this morning. He hoped Dad hadn’t gotten into an accident on the way here.

Angie tapped on his shoulder a few minutes later.

“What?” he asked, knowing what she wanted to tell him.

She looked worse than before. “Rick says that he and Philip got into an argument with Eacker, and they all agreed to meet somewhere the next day, and Eacker brought a gun. He shot at Rick once and missed, but he managed to hit Philip before the cops got there. Somebody heard the gunshots and called 911.”

“That sounds like a mess Philip would get into,” he said absently. It didn’t feel like his brother had been shot. He didn’t feel the same anxiety that Angie felt to find out the truth. In fact, it felt like if he just went to sleep, he’d wake up and everything would be back to normal.

“AJ,” she sniffled, and he offered her a tissue. “The fight was over Dad’s speech at the rally. He didn’t like Dad’s stance on the war in Afghanistan, and he called Dad a coward for wanting to recall the troops. His father died over there and he’s accusing Dad of cheapening his father’s death by saying the war is pointless, and Philip ran into him while they were drunk. They goaded him, and then they challenged him to a fight. Can you imagine how that’s going to go in court? AJ, Eacker is rich -- how do you think that will end? Rick says Philip and Eacker’s argument turned physical before he pulled a gun, and Philip raised his fists first.”

“That doesn’t sound right. Philip’s hotheaded, but he wouldn’t hit first,” he commented. “You know what Mom say: don’t give them an excuse to hurt you. He knows that.”

Angie shook her head. “The jury will hear that a young black man raised his fists to a respected lawyer, who shot him in fear. Laws that would make this illegal are still in the works. Use of non-lethal force is permitted in self-defence.”

“But only in a burglary,” AJ pressed. “Philip’s case is solid. Besides, we’ve got Dad.”

“People will accuse him of bias if we let him represent us, and it will make it awkward if he takes the stand.” Angie pointed out. “He’d be asking and answering his own questions, and it gets confusing for the jury.”

“How do you know so much about _pro se_ cases?” he asked. “I thought you wanted to major in music education.”

“I live in a house with a lawyer who talks more than he ought and my older brother’s a law student.” Her expression lightened a bit. “Plus, you talk about it all the time. It’s hard not to pick up a thing or two.”

“I guess.”

“I’m worried about Philip.”

AJ wasn’t surprised. Angie always worried about Philip. He knew she loved all of them, but she and Philip were particularly close, the way Mom and Aunt Annie were.

Dad walked into the office about then, frazzled and quietly signed them out. He motioned for them to follow him to the car. James was in the backseat, clutching the edge of the seat so tightly that his knuckles were white. Angie sat in the front seat and AJ scooted into the back next to James. The tension in the car was palpable. James leant over and whispered, He hasn’t spoken since he picked me up. At least.”  
AJ understood, then, the tension. Dad only clammed up when things were bad, so James had minimal knowledge of the situation. Angie was sitting with one cheek pressed against the window and had gone limp. She was drained. James just looked scared. AJ met his father’s eyes in the rearview. “Is Philip going to make it?”

“Your mother will message me if the situation changes.” He took a turn that took them away from the hospital and Angie started.

“Papa! We’re heading the wrong way.” She was alert now. “Are you feeling alright? Maybe I should drive.”

“No. We’re getting John and Will from the elementary school.” Dad’s mouth was a thin line, and he looked his age for once.

“Can we fit them in the car?” AJ asked. They didn’t have the SUV. They were in Dad’s work car, which was nice, but fit five people.   
“They’ll fit.”

“But why are we picking them up? Mom’s work is closer. It would be more convenient.” There was no answer for several long minutes.

Angie started to hyperventilate.

“Is Mom … okay?” James ventured, cringing at the words.

Dad’s eyes widened. “Yes, yes, she’s alright. I’m so sorry, I should have said that immediately. Yes. But there was an accident. She’s O.K., Bitsy’s O.K., but the doctors are worried about the baby. She’s miscarried before because of stress, and with her age and the accident … ”

AJ had been four years old when Mom miscarried, but he remembered that neither of his parents had taken it well. If they lost Philip and lost the baby, it would not end well.

“It’ll be okay, I promise,” he tried. “We’ll make it through.”

James, at least, took comfort in that, and AJ and Angie silently agreed not to question it.

“How much do you kids know?” Dad asked.


	2. Madison, 11:30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @CNN: Son of Former Secretary shot over controversial statement  
> @Buzzfeed: 10 facts about why Philip Hamilton was shot  
> @FoxNews: Former Secretary’s comeuppance -- disparaging statements about US troops lead to shooting  
> @BBC: American media concerned over shooting of college student

“Jim, honey, can you come in here?” Dolley called from the living room. 

James walked in and froze. On the television as a blue SUV, its hood peeled back and exposing all the gears and machinery inside. The windshield and at least one window were shattered. They were using a crowbar to remove the door. Text at the bottom of the screen read: Pregnant woman and toddler injured in a traffic accident on Park Avenue, near Conservatory Park; cause of accident believed to be ice on roads. And there, climbing out of the wreckage with scratches covering her forearms and shoulders and clinging to her baby’s car seat, was a woman he knew.

“Elizabeth Hamilton,” he breathed. 

There she was, heavily pregnant with her eighth child and climbing out of a crashed SUV. The fact that her injuries seemed superficial was a blessing. He grabbed his phone. 

“Dolley, mute the T.V., hurry!” He dialled as quickly as he could. The phone picked up on the fourth ring. 

“Yes?” Hamilton snapped from the other end.

“Hamilton, I just saw the news, and -- ”

“I am aware, Madison.” The other man nearly snarled it. “Anything else?”

“I’m sorry, I just thought you’d like to know -- ”

“That my son has been shot?” Hamilton finished. “Actually, I’d love for this not to be happening, but it is, and I need to pick up my children -- ”

“Your wife just climbed out of a car wreck!” Hamilton shut up at that, and James hurried to continue. “She’s fine, and your daughter’s fine, just a little bruised, but I thought you should know.”

“Madison, thank you. Thank you,” he said. “I have to go make some calls and get my kids now, but thank you for informing me. Goodbye.”

He set the phone down. “How did he take it?”

“His son has been shot,” James said in lieu of an answer. “He took it well as he could.”

Dolley squeezed his hand. “You did the right thing, Jim. Are you feeling okay? You’re shaking.”

His hand was trembling. He should go and sit in the quiet before it got worse, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from the screen. He unmuted the television. 

“ -- it has been a rough day for Elizabeth Hamilton, who is heavily pregnant with her eighth child. This morning, she got a call from the hospital that her eldest son, nineteen-year-old Philip Hamilton, was shot. More on that at the studio,” the reporter said. A stock photo of Philip appeared on the corner of the screen.

He saw the news anchors on the screen now. “Thank you, Sean. This morning, at ten-thirty, former Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton’s son Philip was shot by George Eacker. Eacker is a graduate of Columbia University, the school Philip Hamilton now attends. He was taken into custody this morning after a concerned neighbour heard the shots and called the cops. According to NYPD officers, the two men, along with Richard Price, Hamilton’s roommate, had gotten into an argument over a public statement made by Hamilton’s father. Witnesses say that Hamilton raised his fists first and that Eacker pulled a gun on him. Eacker fired at both students, and Hamilton’s elbow was shattered, with the bullet lodging just above his pelvic bone. He is suffering from internal bleeding and doctors are uncertain if he will survive.”

Dolley turned the television off entirely and slammed the controller down. “Now what do they think they’re doing, tormentin’ this family? Their son is in the hospital, Elizabeth and the little one are lucky to alive. If that boy dies, his poor father will hear it from CNN first.”

The thought of Philip dying was unexpectedly sobering. James had met the kid a few times over the years, and it had always been a pleasure. He could only imagine how the boy’s parents were feeling. If Payne had been shot, Christ knows what he’d do. “Dolley, I’m going to go into the office for a bit. If I hear anything new, I’ll let you know.”

“You mean you’ll be trawling social media,” Dolley said. “While you do that, I’ll run my own investigation.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, Jim.”

“See ya, Doll.”

 

He logged onto Twitter first and sighed. His feed was a mess. 

_ @CNN: Son of Former Secretary shot over controversial statement _

_ @Buzzfeed: 10 facts about why Philip Hamilton was shot _

_ @FoxNews: Former Secretary’s comeuppance -- disparaging statements about US troops lead to shooting _

_ @BBC: American media concerned over shooting of college student _

After clicking each accompanying link, it seemed BBC, as usual, had the most straightforward facts. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much beyond what he already knew.

_ @AbbeyAdams: John’s and my thoughts and prayers are with Philip and his family. May God be gracious. _

_ @JohnLaurens: If the media could please give the Hamiltons a little space ... _

_ @TheProspect: Truth behind Hamilton shooting, insider tells all! _

_      @JohnLaurens: Exactly what I’m talking about, y’all. How ‘bout you back the f up? _

_ @JohnJay: Our youth are being hurt by gun violence, and yet America continues to look the other way. (½)  _

_ @JohnJay: Philip is one of the brightest young men I know, and he has become a victim. Please, don’t let this cont. & my best wishes to Alexander. (2/2)  _

_ @MarthaWashington: Everyone who is using this personal tragedy for a political platform: for shame. This is a child’s life. (½) _

_ @MarthaWashington: @AlexanderHamilton, as one parent to another, my heart goes out to you. I understand the difficulty of having a child in such danger. (2/2) _

The rest of his feed was much the same way, with well-wishes and calls for stricter gun control laws. Really, it was the same responses that cropped up after any shooting. He was on the site for an hour and didn’t find anything else of interest. However, one thing gave him pause.

_ @AaronBurr: Philip has been my daughter’s best friend for 13 years. I have seen him grow up & that boy did not deserve to be shot. This shouldn't happen. _

_ @AaronBurr: But it is all too common. Is this the country we choose to be?  _

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “Burr’s taken a side. Wonder what made him decide?”


	3. Burr, 12:00

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @RevSeabury: This is why we must teach youth to turn the other cheek.  
>  @AnnieChurch: I know you mean well, but please don’t.  
>  @JohnLaurens: Angelica is right. The Hamiltons don’t need to be preached to.  
>  @JemHamilton: Agreed. My brother and his family need to heal right now.

Burr’s heart nearly stopped when he heard about the shooting in Chelsea Park. It was right across the street from the soup kitchen Theo volunteered at on weekends. The sinking feeling in his gut only worsened when he realised Theo hadn’t contacted him since before ten, half an hour before the shooting started. He started to hyperventilate as the possibility that she was dead sunk in. He struggled to remember what he had last said to her -- had he told her he loved her? There was very little known about the situation -- the whys and hows and whos -- and that left him biting his fingernails and checking his phone and cursing the reporters who didn’t quite tell him enough. 

He tried to tell himself that it was fine, that Theo was a smart girl, that he was overreacting, but the truth was that he couldn’t stand to lose her, too. He loved her too much to ever let anything bad happen to her. He was her father, he was supposed to protect her. He was supposed to be there for her. Burr knew he had to make the call eventually, but he didn’t know if he could bear it if she didn’t answer.

He had to know, and he didn’t want to learn from the news. He picked up his phone and called her number. It went straight to voicemail.

“That’s it. I can’t do this.” He grabbed his raincoat and locked his office behind him. “I need to go.”

Burr kept his pace even as he walked down the stairs and kept his breathing even. He watched his feet intently --  _ left, right, left, right -- _ and ran into someone running headlong up the stairs. Before he could register the impact, they threw their arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. “Daddy, he shot ‘im!”

His eyes watered and he felt his mouth contort before several ugly gasping sounds escaped. He wrapped his arms around her. “Theodosia, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’ve got you, shh.”

She sobbed louder. “They shot Philip, Daddy. Oh, my god, and th-there was so much  _ blood. _ All I c-could do was call the police -- they just let me leave, just now.”

“Shh, he’ll be alright.” But the warm feeling of knowing his daughter was safe had been replaced with dread. Philip Hamilton had been at his house just last week, laughing about something Theo had said. Two weeks before that, he had visited to ask for help with a paper, since his father was out of town. Suddenly, years of Philip’s visits flashed before Burr’s vision, and the thought of him just not coming over anymore was crushing. He had the urge to find him and make sure he was alright.

But Philip had his own mother and father to do that, and Theo just had him. Right now, he was needed.

“Theo, baby, how about we go home?” 

She nodded and he guided her out of the building. She pressed against him, still sniffling, and they stopped in the lobby to get a cup of water from the cooler. Theo sipped it as they walked to the bus stop. By the time the bus arrived she had calmed down enough to be tired and rested her cheek against Burr’s shoulder.

The bus driver gave them a concerned glance. “She alright?”

“Just a little shook up. She was the one who called the cops this morning about the shooting,” he explained. “Thank you, madam.”

“Oh, poor girl!” she said in sympathy. 

 

Theo fell asleep on the bus and Burr took the time to make a call. “Laurens?”

“Yeah, what is it, Burr?” Laurens answered.

“You might want to call Hamilton. Philip was shot about an hour and a half ago,” he said. “I assume he already knows, but it might help if you talked to him … and I thought you might want to know before you see it on the news. I know Philip is practically a son to you.”

“Christ,” Laurens breathed. “Uh, yeah, I’ll call Alex and make sure he’s holding up alright. I’ll try and call off of work, see if I can drive up there for a week -- no, no, I’ll fly.” He sounded like he was talking to himself and Burr prepared to hang up when he snapped out of it and said, “Burr, uh, thanks for telling me. It means a lot, really. How are you and Theo doing? I know they were close. Is she alright?”

“Yes, a bit shaken, but yeah, she’ll be fine,” Burr said. “She’s tough. Thank you for asking.”

“No problem, Burr. I thought that’d be the case. She takes after her old man.”

 

They arrived at their stop around twelve-thirty. Burr gently nudged Theo awake. 

She yawned and followed him off the bus and up the street toward their house. “I told Angie about Eacker.”

Burr’s ears pricked at that. “Eacker?”

He’d fired the man when Eacker had decided it was cute to flirt with a high school girl. 

“Yeah, he shot Philip.” She described what little she knew about the situation, and Burr grew increasingly furious. Eacker was a grown man, and he let himself be goaded by a drunken teenager and then brought a damn gun to a fistfight. Why did these things happen, he wondered.

He made Theo a mug of hot chocolate and got her settled, then booted up his computer and logged on Twitter to see what everyone else had to say about this.

_ @JamesMadison: Best wishes to the Hamilton family. @ElizaHamilton, if there’s anything Dolley and I can do, let us know. _

_ @GClinton: A sad day for New York. _

_ @KittyLivingston: @AlexanderHamilton, I am so sorry. Tell Philip I’m rooting for him. _

_ @RevSeabury: This is why we must teach youth to turn the other cheek. _

_      @AnnieChurch: I know you mean well, but please don’t. _

_      @JohnLaurens: Angelica is right. The Hamiltons don’t need to be preached to. _

_      @JemHamilton: Agreed. My brother and his family need to heal right now. _

_ @The Prospect: Dr Hosack says Hamilton won’t make it through the night! _

_      @JemHamilton: YOU won’t make it through the night if you don’t shut it. The doctors said they were unsure, dumbass. _

“You’re acting like children,” Aaron complained after twenty minutes. He made a few of his own tweets and picked up the phone and texted Hamilton.

_ How’s your son? _

Five minutes later, he responded.  _ I don’t know. Trapped outside the hospital by reporters & James Callender. Why the fuck do they know this shit before I do? _

_ Don’t know. Have your kids eaten yet? _ Burr asked.

_ Shit. No, they haven’t. _

_ Relax, I’ve got this. Just try and get your kids into the hospital and I’ll bring something. _

_ Thank you, and when you get a chance, thank Theo for me. She may have saved his life. _


	4. AJ, 12:45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dad, the Burrs are here, and they brought McDonald’s.”

AJ felt ready to vomit as they pulled into the hospital and saw the parking lot crowded with reporters. When Dad parked the car and they got out, he said very seriously to all of them: “Let me do the talking. Stay close to me.”

Will grabbed Dad’s hand. AJ put an arm around Angie, who was taking everything poorly and hadn’t spoken or registered anyone since they picked up Johnny and Will. He also kept an eye on Dad, who’d had panic attacks in the past. They got approximately four yards before they were swarmed by reporters.

“Mr Hamilton, how are you and your wife coping with this tragedy?”

“How will this affect your stance on gun control?”

“The police department has stated that Eaker’s motive for the argument was a statement you made. What do you think about this?”

Dad picked up Will and balanced him on his hip, though it was clear he was straining. Will was getting too big and Dad was getting too old for this. Johnny clung to Dad’s coat and looked more than a little terrified of the flashing cameras. AJ felt a pang of pity. Johnny was always the shyest of the group. He could feel Angie’s clammy hand in his.

“I think my son has been shot, and I would like to see him, please.” Dad tried to force his way past the wall of reporters, but it was no use. He shouted, “Please let me through! My son is in the hospital, and I want to see him.”

They didn’t budge. Dad’s phone went off, but he couldn’t check it while holding onto Will and Johnny, and he wasn’t letting them go. The reporters crowded them. Angie was crying now, seemingly without cause. James grabbed the phone from Dad’s pocket and read the text on the screen and opened his, but then shut it after remembering the reporters. Then his face brightened.

“Papa,” he began on Creole, “it’s Burr. He’s texting to ask about Philip. He says, ‘how is your boy?’”

“Tell him ‘I don’t know because we’re trapped outside hospital by reporters and James Callender’ -- ”

“Sir, are you aware that your son has gone into shock from blood loss?”

“ -- How the fuck do they know this shit before I do?”

“Sent,” James said. “O.K., now he wants to know if we’ve eaten.”

“Shit. Uh, ‘no they haven’t.”

“Got it, Papa.” He slid the phone back into his pocket. “Burr said to get us inside and he’d bring food.”

Dad drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “Thank him, and ask him to thank Theo for me when he gets the chance. She may have saved your brother’s life by calling the cops when she did.”

 

Several minutes later, a female voice called above the crowd, “Back off, vultures, and let some real reporters show you how to treat people.”

Dad’s face burst into a bright smile as Jezebel writers Dolley Madison and Sarah Bache shoved through the crowd. “Out of our way!”

“Hey, Dolley, I haven’t seen you in a while. I thought you were in Montpelier?” Dad shook her hand. “Thanks for coming out, though.”

“Figured you’d need help.” She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him forward easily, probably because she towered over him. “Just to be clear, this is for your wife and kids. I think you’re kind of a dumbass.”

Dad blushed. “I know. I read the article.”

“Huh.” Sarah clucked her tongue as she pushed AJ and Angie forward. “Surprising you didn’t refute it with another scandal.”

“Everything in the article was true,” Dad protested. “I wouldn’t have said anything against it. I’m not a hypocrite.”

“Debateable, but considering the current circumstances, I’m letting you off the hook.” Dolley opened the hospital door. “Alright, there you go. I’ll be staying at the Hilton, so y’all know where to find me. You, sir, owe me an exclusive for flying up here to save your ass.”

Dad nodded. “Of course. Thanks, Dolley.”

“Not an issue.” The two women waved goodbye and braved the parking lot of disappointed reporters.

Dad asked where Mom and Philip were, and was told that Mom and Bitsy had been checked out after they were looked over for deeper wounds and were with Philip in room 204A. They hurried up to the waiting room and seated themselves.

AJ was about to pick up a magazine when Dad pulled him aside urgently.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Is Angie still with us? She seems out of it. I’m worried.” Dad motioned to where Angie was flipping through a magazine, disinterested. “I know she’s upset, but she usually talks more when she’s nervous about something, and she hasn’t responded to anything since I told you all about the accident. Has she spoken at all?”

“Uh, no, but maybe seeing Philip will make her feel better.” AJ shifted uncomfortably. He decided it was terribly awkward to be Dad’s confidante and wondered how Philip did it. “Could we maybe do that? I’d like to see him myself.”

“Yeah, I’ll take you each in one at a time,” he said, “but I might not take in the little ones, if … if he’s bad off.”

AJ didn’t want to hear any of this. He really, really didn’t want to hear that Philip was bad off from his father. He wanted Dad to keep assuring them that everything would be fine, and Philip would live and this was nothing he and Mom couldn’t handle. To his relief, the conversation was ended by James poking his head out of the waiting room to say, “Dad, the Burrs are here, and they brought McDonald’s.”

They reentered the room and helped Burr pass out sandwiches and fries. It was a little awkward having Dad and Burr in the same room, but they got along fine for the time being.

“Theo, I know you were the one to call the police. Thank you for that.” Dad hugged Theo and she sniffled but held herself together.

“It’s nothing, Mr Hamilton,” she said. “I just hope I called in time. There was a lot of blood, and it happened very quickly.”

Dad took her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Whatever happens, you kept your head and you gave Philip a fighting chance. I cannot thank you enough for that.”

His voice cracked a bit, but he continued to Burr. “I’m going to go check on him while the kids are eating. Are you and Theo staying?”

“Yeah, for a bit. She wants to see him.” Burr squeezed his daughter’s shoulder. “And I’d like to see him myself if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Kids, I’m going to go check on your brother. I’ll be right back, so behave yourselves while I’m gone.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dad was gone for awhile, and things grew increasingly more uncomfortable. With Mom and Dad gone, Philip lying in a hospital bed and Angie seemingly having gone catatonic, that left AJ to answer the little kids’ questions, like: is Philip going to die? Where’s Mama? What’s going on? When can we go home? He tried to answer them as vaguely and assuringly as he could, shooting glances at Burr for help. Burr just shifted from one foot to another and looked awkward, like he wasn’t sure how to comfort them earlier, which wasn’t fair. Adults were supposed to know how to do these things. Theo tried to smile comfortingly at him from time to time, but she was mostly invested in getting Angie to relax enough to eat some of her lunch before it got cold.

The Burrs being there wasn’t too strange since Theo had been at their house enough that he almost considered her a sister, but she was the distant kind of sister. The one who's grown up and moved out and sends you money on your birthday but you don’t see too often. He supposed it was different for Philip and Angie. They had known her most of their lives. AJ wished he had a lifelong childhood friend to sit with him through this and distract him.

Around two o’clock, Dad emerged through the door and everyone stood involuntarily, even Angie. Good, at least she had some grasp on the situation.

“Philip can only see a few people today because he’s recovering from surgery, so I’m going to let Angie, Theo and AJ see him today, okay?” Dad said. “He won’t be up much longer, so you’ll have to see him as a group. Come on, I’ll walk you back. Burr, could you keep an eye on the kids for me? I’ll be back once I show them the room.”

“Yeah, sure, Hamilton.” Burr nodded and sat down to read a magazine.

The kids looked crestfallen, and AJ felt a little bad for them. They had been here for two hours and wouldn’t even see Philip, but AJ remembered what Dad said earlier. He wouldn’t let the little kids see if it was too bad. As they walked back, he couldn’t help thinking Angie and Theo should see either. Theo had already seen him today and there was no telling how Angie would take it.

Dad opened the door to Philip’s room and said, “Betsy, sweetheart, I brought a couple of the kids.”

“Come on in.”

AJ almost passed out when he saw his mother. She had a bandage wrapped around her forehead and smaller band-aids on her arms. There was a bandage covering her cheek and one just above her left eye. “Mama, what happened?”

“I’m alright, sweetheart,” Mom assured them. “Just a few scratches. Head wounds bleed a lot.”

Angie gestured to their brother. “How’s he doing?”

Philip was lying on the bed, pale and sweaty, and groaning.

“Ask him yourself.” She tried to look cheerful, but she was evidently worried. Gently, she tapped Philip’s cheek. “Honey, it’s time to wake up for a bit. AJ and Angie are here to see you.”

Philip groaned and tried and failed to sit up. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Theo sat down on the edge of the bed. “What were you thinking, going to a fight like that? You are honestly the dumbest person I’ve ever met.”

He smiled weakly. “Didn’t think he’d bring a gun.”

“Did you think at all?” AJ chimed in. “‘Cause it doesn’t seem like you did. Thanks for getting me out of Adams’s class, though. He almost took my phone, though.”

“Oh? Did he?”

“Nah,” he replied. “Mom? He told me to tell you his and Ms Smith’s prayers are with you and Dad.”

“No way! He hates Dad!” Philip laughed, but then started gasping and coughed up blood.

Angie pushed past AJ and grabbed Philip’s hand. “Philip!”

“Help me prop him up,” Mom instructed and moved pillows while Angie held him up. Once he’d stopped coughing, Mom wiped his mouth off with a napkin. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

“I know, Mom. Sorry,” he wheezed. “Sorry for getting shot. I couldn’t let Eacker just trash talk Dad like that.”

Mom froze. She hadn’t known. AJ fervently wished Philip hadn’t said anything.

He sat on the edge and tentatively patter\d his brother’s uninjured shoulder. “Hang in there, Phil. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya, AJ.” His eyes fluttered shut. “Don’t worry, guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah Bache is Franklin's daughter, about eight to ten years older than Alexander.


	5. Johnny, 23:25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny can't sleep through the sound of his parents fighting downstairs. He doesn't to go down, but he really needs to pee.
> 
> And he hears something he wished he hadn't.

Johnny covered his head with his blankets and tried to block out the yelling. He couldn’t hear what his parents were saying, but they sounded mad. 

He had to pee, but that meant walking past the living room, where his parents were. Normally it wouldn’t bother him -- he was used to one of them, usually Papa, being up when he went to use the restroom -- but he wasn’t used to them fighting, especially for so long. He’d asked Angie if they’d fought like this before, and she said yes, when he was a baby, but didn’t elaborate. He crossed his legs and rocked back in forth. If he didn’t go now, he’d pee himself. The mortification of wetting the bed finally won over the fear of his parents catching him out of bed when they were angry.

Johnny tiptoed past Papa’s office and the living room. He could hear Mama clearly now. “Alexander, why don’t you think about what you say  _ before  _ you say it?”

“How was I supposed to know this would happen,  _ Elizabeth? _ I said what needed to be said -- Eacker blew it out of proportion. I don’t know why you’re going after me.”

“Because he went to Eacker about it and there was a fight.”

“He’s nineteen, Eliza! I can’t keep track of him every minute of the day.”

“He has a phone, Alexander.” Mama’s voice had gone shrill. “And you know  _ damn well _ that what you say has an impact on this family.” There was a brief silence, and then, “If he dies, I want a divorce.”

“Eliza -- ”

Johnny closed the bathroom door and shoved a towel under the door to muffle the argument. He considered not flushing the toilet to avoid detection, but it was too gross. 

Just as he was ready to pass by again, he heard his mother say, “Philip’s been shot, he’s undergoing some dangerous surgery tomorrow and he can’t keep anything down. Angie’s barely responsive to anything. I think she’s having a breakdown.”

Papa’s shadow could be seen in the hallway, and Johnny hurriedly pressed against the wall, hoping he didn’t come out and see him. 

He sounded gentle now, instead of defensive. “Betsy, it’ll be fine. I’ll take her to see somebody tomorrow. Philip’s surgery will go well. I promise the kids will be fine. I won’t let anything bad happen to them.”

“Something bad has already happened,” Mama said darkly. “You can’t keep that promise, Alexander, so don’t  _ say _ that.”

“I know, Betsy. I’m doing what I can, but there isn’t much we  _ can _ do but … wait.” Papa spat the last word like it tasted bad. 

Johnny stayed put while they continued their circular argument. Over time, he slid down the wall and fell asleep there. He awoke some time later when someone shook his shoulder.

“Johnny. Johnny, wake up.” Papa and Mama were crouched over him. Mama’s eyes were red and puffy and Papa had bags under his eyes.

He leaned forward and hugged them both tightly, and mumbled, “Are you done fighting?”

Papa paled. “Johnny, we weren’t … your mama and I, we … I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Papa picked him up then like he used to when Johnny was little. He grunted and held Johnny close. He knew his father was getting older, and the reminder frightened him. “Your mama and I love each other, but we’re both upset right now because Philip’s in the hospital and we’re scared.”

“Put him down, Alexander, before you drop him or hurt yourself. God knows that’s the last thing we need,” Mama said. When Johnny had been safely lowered to the floor, she touched his cheek. Her hand was cool. “Sweetheart, sometimes adults get into fights because we’re angry at each other. It doesn’t mean Papa would ever hurt me, or that I would hurt him. We just need to work some things out.”

“You’re being very loud about it,” Johnny pointed out. “And you’re using each other’s real names.  _ And  _ you’re crying, and Papa’s got that look he gets when something bad happens, and you’re yelling at each other. It sounds like you’re hurting each other plenty.”

His parents looked ashamed. Nobody said anything.

“Why are you angry at each other anyway?” Johnny asked. “Somebody else shot Philip, Mama. And, Papa, Mama didn’t do anything at all.” His lip trembled. “Are you really gonna divorce Papa?”

“Oh, honey.” She pulled him against and ran her fingers through his hair. But she didn’t say no.

  
  


Johnny woke up the next morning in his bed. Will’s bed was empty. When he padded down the hall to find Angie, hers was too. Nervously, he knocked on his parents' door. “Mama?”

Mama swung the door open and smiled. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. “Good morning, Johnny.”

He peeked into the room. Papa wasn’t there. “Where is everybody?”

“Your sister hasn’t been feeling well, so your Papa took her to a special hospital to help her feel better. They’ll be back later,” she explained. “Your brothers and Bitsy are downstairs eating breakfast. You had a rough night, so I decided to let you sleep.”

“How come you were sleeping?” he asked. 

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “I had a rough night, too.”

“What about Papa?” His heart was beating fast. He wanted to hear that it had ended alright. That his parents were still in love and he wouldn’t have to choose between them. “He’s not sleeping.”

Mama looked pained. “Your Papa deals with things very differently from me. He couldn’t sleep anyway, and it makes him feel better to be able to help you sister, at least.”

Johnny nodded, unsatisfied. She was avoiding making him promises. The last time she had acted like this, their dog, Pegs, had to be put down. This time, his brother was in the hospital. “Can we go see Philip?”

“He has a surgery this morning to -- to take the bullet out.” Mama  stared into the distance over his head. “If he’s feeling alright after that, we’ll visit him.”

“Can’t we make him better?” Johnny heard his voice rising, but he couldn’t stop it. “He won’t die, will he?”

Mama made a half-whimpering, half-choking noise. “All we can do is pray.” Her voice was tight. “Go eat breakfast. I’ll be down soon. You boys don’t have to go to school. I called in.”  
She shut the door quickly. Johnny walked a few steps way and stopped. 

He heard his mother cry. That had never happened before.


	6. Philip, Countdown

7

 

Young Lawyer criticizes Hamilton in Independence Day speech

_ By James Cheetah _

 

“Young up-and-coming lawyer George Eacker, son of the late Captain Jacob Eacker, spoke yesterday at the Indepence Day event held at the Capitol Building. Eacker spoke on behalf of his fellow veterans and of his father who died in action, stating that Sect. Alexander Hamilton’s remarks on the futility of the war are shameful and show ‘a distinct lack of respect for the brave men and women who have sacrificed their lives for our country.’”

 

[Audio File ge4Js.mp3]

_ “I respect Sect. Hamilton’s service to the United States during the conflicts in Lebanon and Panama, which is why I’m shocked and horrified at his apparent distinct lack of disrespect for the brave men and women who have sacrificed their lives for our country. I believe I can speak for my entire brigade when I say to Hamilton, I am disappointed. _

_ Truly, it seems that in the fight for democracy, he has forgotten it’s meaning. We fight in Afganistan so that we can remove a powerful and cruel dictator that abuses his people, and Hamilton’s cynical assertion that we entered the war for the sake of something as petty as oil cheapens the deaths of brave men like my father.  _

_ To pull out of the war now, as Mr. Hamilton suggests, would be cowardly and show the world that we are a weak and willing to be pushed around. _

_ Thank you all for coming and God bless.” _ __   
  


* * *

 

6

 

“I can’t believe he said all that about your dad. Like, he hasn’t even been deployed yet, has he?”

“No. Besides, it’s not  _ cowardly _ to want to pull out. I mean, it would save a lot of lives. That what Dad says, anyway.”

“Are you going to let it slide?”

“What can I do? It’s not like I can just walk down the street and find his house or anything. I mean, where would I even meet him?”

“I guess so, Philip. Hey, there’s going to be a party tomorrow to kick off the school year. Wanna go?”

“Sure, sounds fun. We can catch a movie after. Sound good, Rick?”

“You bet.”

* * *

 

 

5

**The West Indian**

**Can Belcour prove his worth?**

_ Come watch this classic tale of an immigrant in a foreign city and the reunion of a father and his son. Premiered in London as a smash hit, The West Indian is now coming to a theatre near you. See the trailer below! _

 

[Video File twit#2.hdv]

 

_ A man in a gray business suit sits a large, ornate desk. Papers are spread out before him. A short stocky man enters. _

 

_ “Mr. Stockwell, you want to see me?” _

 

_ “Yes,” Stockwell replies, glancing up from his papers. “Stukely, I have something to confess: I have a son.” _

 

_ “While in the West Indies, I met a woman whom I courted. We secretly married and she bore me a child. Her dying wish prevents my telling the boy if his true heritage … unless he has proven himself worth of my fortunes.” _

 

_ Stockwell’s voice plays over a clip of a young couple, the young man vaguely recognizable as Stockwell. He’s holding the woman’s hand in between his and smiling. She pulls her hand back to reveal an engagement ring. Throwing her arms around him, the image fades. _

 

_ Rapid clips of a racially ambiguous dashing young man shoving his way through a crowd, a mysterious woman stealing jewels, a duel between the dashing young man and another, the mysterious woman and the dashing man kissing passionately.  _

 

_ Finally, Stockwell approaches the dashing young man in an empty, dreary office. Stockwell walks toward the young man and pulls him into a tight hug. “Belcour. My son.” _

 

_ The screen fades to black and, in gold script, the words “Richard Cumberlands’ The West Indian” appear across the screen. Then, over clips of various characters, the video lists the stars performing in the movie. Dramatic music plays as the screen goes black for the final time. _

* * *

 

 

4

 

“Say, Philip, you want to see this one?”

“It’s going to be the most mind-numbing, culturally insensitive thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Probably, but think of the kick you’re going to get out of it, what with your old man actually being from the Caribbean and all.”

 

###

 

“I’ve got the day off, Mom. I’ll probably go see that new movie -- the one about the Jamaican merchant prince? I’ll swing by and have dinner with you afterwards. We can go visit Dad’s grave and everything.”

“Alright, George, you have fun. Oh, can you pick up a wreath?”

“Sure, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

* * *

 

 

3

 

Philip leaned back in his seat, scarfing popcorn. His head felt a bit fuzzy from the beer. Stuff tasted disgusting. He could see why his parents didn’t keep the stuff in the house. “Ricky, I think this is actually the most offensive things I have ever watched. Like, ‘I am an idle, dissipated, unthinking fellow, not worth your notice; in short, I am a West Indian.’ What the fuck? Dude, I’m drunk, and that’s still not even remotely funny.”

“Yeah,” Ricky started to stand up, “I’m sorry, dude. Let’s get out of here.”

“Geez, I’m gonna need to ‘study’ at your dorm tonight. My parents will kill me if they find out I’ve been drinking.”

“No problem.”

* * *

 

 

2

 

The icy wind cut against George’s face and he tried to hover his metal phone just above  his cheek. “Mom, I’m going to be a bit early. This movie pretty bad. See you soon. Love you.”

“See you soon, dear.” His mother was always smiling, and he could hear it over the phone. “I love you.”

The line clicked off and he headed toward his car. 

“Hey, aren’t that Mr. Eacker fellow?” an angry voice slurred from the direction of the theatre. “I saw what you said about my father. You wanna take it back?”

“Shit.”

  
**1.**


End file.
